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Summary
The world was dead. Browned leaves broke underneath her feet. The trees surrounding the graveyard were barren, their branches reaching out like crooked arms. She was dead too. She was a skeleton. Her cloak covered a body of poking bones. Necrotic patches lay unswelling on her neck and the hollow dip of her underarms. D’arce stared at the grave for some time, aching, always, and decided that she felt nothing.
Nothing but torment.
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After recovering from the plague, D’arce is visited by The God of Ultraviolence.